


like real people do

by dearygirl



Series: Matryoshka [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearygirl/pseuds/dearygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The group settles in at a farmhouse after weeks on the road. Or, Beth and Daryl are still in love, Beth and Rick are still kind of married, and relationships in the apocalypse are complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> Ack. It’s been a million years since I last posted but I was waylaid from writing for a bit after the mid-season finale terribleness broke my heart. When I wrote the first part it was before season five started airing so I kept the details of Beth’s reunion with the group really vague because I figured nothing I wrote would compare with how it played out on the show. Lol. Jokes on me, I suppose. So for the purposes of this fic (and my sanity and love for Beth Greene) let’s pretend that Beth managed to escape the hospital with Noah, separated from him in Atlanta, and eventually reunited happily with her family.
> 
> Also, I originally posted the first part of this intending for it to be a multi-chaptered fic but I’ve since realized that these different parts work well as stand-alones so I’ve decided to post them all separately as part of one series. 
> 
> Also also, I would have given up on this long ago if it weren’t for my beautifully radiant beta/best friend/brain-sharer Openhearts yelling at me to write and being willing to headcanon forever about Beth, Daryl, and Rick. If you're not already reading her amazing fic Safe and Sound GO DO IT NOW. Or when you're done reading this, that works too.
> 
> Okay I'll shut up now. I hope you enjoy!

~*~

“You should sing something, Beth.” 

She looks across the room at Carl sprawled out on his stomach in front of the fireplace, his chin resting on his folded arms and his hat tipped low over his eyes. He offers her an encouraging smile but Beth scrunches up her nose and shakes her head. She’s fairly positive she wouldn’t be able to make it through an entire song without her voice breaking with exhausted tears.

“Not tonight,” she murmurs.

They’re all gathered in the living room, having decided to sleep close together for the night until they can be sure the farm is secure. Blankets and sleeping bags are spread over the floor and sofa and they’ve snuggled into the soft comfort after a larger than usual dinner of rabbit and canned vegetables cooked over the small fire. The room is warm and cozy and Beth feels loose-limbed and weary as she settles back on the sofa between Maggie and Tara.

“You sing? I thought that was only for the kid.” Tara says, nodding toward where Rick is lounged back in the recliner with Judith asleep on his chest.

“She’s awesome,” Glenn answers for her. He’s sitting on the floor next to Maggie’s legs and he tips his head back to meet Beth’s eyes. “If Eugene gets that cure working we’ll need new music. Beth could be a star.”

Beth blushes and brings her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself in embarrassment despite the pleased smile on her lips. Maggie bumps their shoulders together and grins at her. 

“Writing upbeat songs about fallin’ in love while stabbin’ walkers in the head.”

“Yeah, Walker Guts on My Guitar will be a great first single,” Beth scoffs.

“So why are you holding out on us, man?” Tara nudges her but Beth just shrugs and rests her chin on her knee. 

The room falls quiet again save for the crackle and spit of the fire and it’s only been an hour or so since the sun set but she’s ready to fall into a deep hard sleep, curled up under a blanket to hibernate straight through till spring. She watches as Rick presses a kiss to the top of Judith’s head and then her eyes slide over to where Daryl is perched in the windowsill finishing up his dinner, having just come in after trading watch with Sasha and Tyreese. 

His face is mostly in shadow but she can feel his eyes on her and her skin warms under the touch of his dark gaze. She smiles softly and the corner of his mouth pulls up in response. He doesn’t look away.

 

~*~

 

Sunlight pours in through the large front window when Beth wakes later than normal the next morning with a twinge of a headache and a sore neck. The rolled up sweater she’s using as a pillow feels uncomfortably hard and she leans up on her elbow and tilts her head from side to side with a quiet groan, taking a moment to survey the room. It’s still quiet in the house as everyone takes advantage of the chance to sleep in but the room is warm and the fire’s still going so she knows someone’s been tending it throughout the night.

Judith is sleeping soundly next to her, legs tucked up under her body and her butt in the air, and Rick is lying close to them, one arm slung over his eyes and the other draped over Beth’s knee under their layer of blankets. The space on Beth’s other side is empty and she has a hazy memory of stirring awake when Daryl got up to join Carol for watch and his soft murmur close to her ear as he leaned in to make sure she was still covered and warm. 

She quickly accounts for everyone else, snuggled under their own blankets around the room, and then smiles faintly and settles back against her makeshift pillow, curling tighter around the baby.

Over the last few months they’ve found temporary sanctuary in warehouses and churches and dilapidated cabins, but it’s the first time since the prison they’ve tucked in for the night in a place that holds promise beyond basic shelter. Her aching body is grateful for the extended reprieve from countless miles of walking in worn down shoes, from nights sleeping on the cold unforgiving ground, and from the uncertainty of food and water, but there’s a band of worry squeezing tight around her chest.

It was different that first night at the prison when the sprawling grassy yard had felt like acres of wide-opened prairie land ripe with potential, the chain link fences like impenetrable concrete walls. As she sang, her voice a drawstring cinching her family closer together in one tight circle, she had felt hope sparking like a fire under her heart and warming down to her toes, had seen the relief of it reflected in the faces of those nine people who had become her entire world.

Now she only sees weariness.

The upheaval, the running, the danger - that was their new normal and everything in between was just a stop-gap. It would only be a matter of time before they were moving on from this place too and she can’t help mourning a loss they haven’t even suffered yet.

Across the room Maggie and Glenn are talking in soft murmurs now and the noise causes Rick to stir, his hand tightening against Beth’s knee like he’s making sure she’s still there, anchoring him as he eases awake. There’s a low grumble in his throat as he peers out from under his arm and winces into the sunlight.

“‘M too old to be sleepin’ on the floor.” 

His voice is deep and raspy from sleep, almost too loud in the stillness of the room. Out of the corner of her eye Beth can see Glenn lift his head briefly to check on them. 

“It was your idea for all of us to sleep down here.”

“Must be going senile too.” 

Beth snorts and Rick turns his head to squint at her. He squeezes her knee again. 

“You feelin’ better?”

She nods. “It was a good meal last night.”

Rick regards her quietly, the lines in his forehead furrowed deep, before nodding and turning his gaze to Judith. His face relaxes as his mouth turns up in a soft smile.

“We need to find a crib,” he says after a moment. “It’ll be good for her to be in a real bed.”

“She doesn’t know the difference, Rick. As long as she’s warm and we’re here when she wakes up.” Beth curls her hand over his and presses her fingers into his palm. “But it’ll be nice for her to have a place to crawl around, learn to walk soon.”

Rick lets out a dry laugh. “It’s only gonna get harder having a toddler running around. One time when Carl was learnin’ how to crawl I turned away from him for a second and when I turned back he was gone. I looked everywhere. It was liked he just vanished. Finally found him in a kitchen cabinet sittin’ in the crock pot.”

Beth giggles. “We’ll childproof all the cabinets to be safe. And with eleven other people in the house I doubt she’d get very far without anyone noticing.”

“Eleven people. Shit.” 

“Seems like a lot.”

“But it doesn’t feel it.”

Beth shakes her head, running her thumb along his knuckles, slowly tracing each ridge and dip, back and forth in a lulling rhythm. “I remember when five people felt too crowded. Used to shut myself in my room and listen to music or take Nellie out and go lay in the fields with my journal just for some peace and quiet.”

“You still do that.” He smiles at Beth’s raised eyebrow and continues, “Don’t have a horse you can take off on, but you still find those moments. Saw it at the prison, still see it now.”

She feels a faint sense of surprise at the affectionate certainty in his tone, but Beth shakes it off and shrugs. “Being alone isn’t as comforting as it used to be, though.”

Rick exhales out a soft “yeah” as he looks back up at the ceiling. A soft smile plays at his lips.

“What?”

“Just thinkin’ how it’s been awhile since Daryl’s gone out hunting alone.” His fingers tighten around hers and Beth hums and turns her face to press into the sweater under her head. 

“Guess so,” she murmurs.

A few moments later Judith lets out a soft whimper and brushes her face back and forth across her hands. They both watch as she continues to stir until she lifts her head and looks around. Her hair is standing on end and the side of her face is red from resting on her hands. Beth slides her hand away from Rick’s and rests it on Judith’s back.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

Judith answers back in a string of incomprehensible babbling and lifts herself to her hands and knees. She rocks back and forth like she’s about to start crawling but then loses her balance, toppling to the side and rolling onto her back with a giggle.

“I’ll get her bottle.” Rick starts, but Beth waves him off.

“I got it.” She leans in and presses a kiss to Judith’s forehead before shrugging off her blanket and getting up. Rick watches her go and then scoops Judith up to lift her over his head and make her yelp happily. 

 

~*~

 

Beth steps lightly, picking a careful path through the dense maze of trees and underbrush and listening for any noise that isn’t the soft crunch of dried leaves beneath their boots and the occasional twitter of a bird high in the canopy of branches over their heads. She has her knife gripped readily in her hand to mark an inconspicuous trail into the occasional tree trunk as she passes. 

After a breakfast of oatmeal and canned peaches they had split into reconnaissance teams to check the area surrounding the farm and as one of the better trackers Beth had been paired with Sasha to head several miles northwest towards a creek that showed on one of the maps found in the barn. They’ve been walking for about an hour and Beth has yet to make out anything other than rabbit and deer tracks. 

Sasha has been silent through the entirety of their hike, holding onto her rifle and following Beth, pausing when Beth pauses, continuing when Beth ushers her on, all without question. 

Something catches her eyes on the ground and Beth crouches down and brushes some leaves away to uncover the crescent of a heel print in the soft dirt. Looking ahead she can see a meandering path of disturbed leaves and bent branches veering to the left.

“Walker,” she murmurs.

Behind her Sasha tightens her grip on her rifle. “Just one?”

The print looks fairly fresh. Beth closes her eyes and listens, trying to separate out all the noises she hears, but the forest remains quiet and there’s no telling growl or grumble of a heard.

“I think so.”

She nods Sasha ahead and they follow the trail about a half a mile where it winds into the rocky edge of the small gurgling creek. Beth balances unevenly on two rocks and shields her eyes with her hands as she looks downstream where the walker is tangled in the branches of a fallen tree, its head barely above water as its arms flail. Sasha relaxes her stance. 

They decide to leave it to either sweep downriver away from the farm or slowly decompose where it is, and continue side-by-side up stream where the trees start to thin out. Without the shade the mid-day sun beats down heavy and bright, making them sweaty and uncomfortable in their jackets despite the crisp autumn breeze. 

“You picked this up fast,” Sasha says when Beth points out a pair of deer tracks disappearing back into the woods.

“Daryl’s a good teacher.” Beth glances over at her and Sasha’s eyes are narrowed like she’s trying to work something through in her head, but she doesn’t say anything and Beth resumes scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary. 

It’s a few minutes later when Sasha speaks again.

“You and Daryl.”

Beth startles, her pulse quickening as she braces for the rest of that question. It’s been months since she’s been back with the group and in that time no one’s really commented on or acknowledged the change in her and Daryl’s relationship, save for a few knowing glances from Maggie and Rick’s comment earlier that morning.

“You got close after the prison.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You think that would have happened if you hadn’t spent all that time alone?”

Beth relaxes and smiles softly. “I’m not sure. Maybe not.” She tries to keep her focus on the ground, but she can feel Sasha’s eyes on her. She shrugs. “I don’t think it matters though. I might not have ever learned how to track either. But that doesn’t take away from what I can do now.” 

Sasha nods slowly and they both come to a stop and survey ahead where the rocky bank they’ve been following starts to incline and the water rushes faster over the slick stone.

“I didn’t even like Bob back at the prison,” Sasha says suddenly and Beth huffs out a laugh in surprise. She shakes her head and presses her fingers to her lips to try to cover it.

“Sorry.”

A small smile quirks at the corners of Sasha’s mouth. “Don’t be. He knew it too,” she adds with a sigh. Beth watches her, searching for something comforting to add and then deciding against it when she sees the distant look in Sasha’s eyes. Instead, she looks back toward the tree line, taps Sasha’s arm and gestures for her to follow. They continue in silence.

 

~*~

 

They get back to the farm at the same time as Maggie and Michonne, neither group having encountered anything out of the ordinary, and an hour later Daryl and Glenn return as well, rumbling up the road in a pickup truck they found abandoned at a neighboring farm. 

Having officially declared the area safe enough they spend the next few days going out on supply runs, beginning work on trenches to protect the property, cleaning the house from top to bottom, and ever so slowly easing into their new environment. But despite the farm’s seclusion, the organized night watches, and the healthy stock of food, there’s a continued edginess to every moment, as if they are all perpetually walking circles over thin ice and waiting for it to splinter and crack.

~*~

 

Beth wakes with a start, reaching instinctively for Judith and sucking in a deep gasping breath when her hands come up empty. Her heart lurches up into her throat as her fingers scrabble against the sheets in the dark and everything tunnels until it’s just that expanse of space next to her. 

“Judith,” she chokes out, even as the fog of sleep around her brain recedes and realization dawns. 

“She’s with Rick,” Michonne murmurs, her voice muffled into the pillow.

Beth nods, sitting up all the way with her knees pulled up to her chest, her pulse still roaring in her ears. Their first few nights at the farm they had continued sleeping congregated in the living room, but earlier that night Maggie and Glenn had disappeared without a word behind the closed door of one of the bedrooms and the rest of the group had decided it was finally time to split up and stop sleeping on the floor. The crib was moved into a room with two twin beds for Rick and Carl and Judith to share while an extra bed from the attic was moved into the master bedroom along with the queen for Beth, Michonne, and Carol.

The comfort of a mattress hadn’t been able to overcome the strangeness of going to sleep without Daryl or Rick on either side of her, without Judith tucked close to her body, and Beth had lain awake too long in the dark, thoughts spinning, before settling into a light sleep filled with vague half-formed dreams.

She squeezes her eyes shut and presses the heel of her hand to her forehead, trying to hold back the sob that catches in her throat as she thinks about Judith in the next room snuggled down in her crib in the pink footie pajamas Beth had dressed her in earlier, the soft noises she makes when she moves, the sleepy smile that eases across her faces when she wakes up and sees Beth first thing in the morning.

“She can stay in here some nights.”

Beth takes a deep shuddering breath and shakes her head, nails biting into her palms as her hands curl into fists. “No. She should be with Rick. She’s fine. It’s fine.”

A few moments later she feels Michonne’s hand slide over hers, just resting at first and then squeezing lightly. “It’s not fine.” Her voice is sharp and when Beth looks back at her she can see a steely glint in her eyes that is edged with understanding. Beth’s face crumbles and she’s unable to stop the tears from spilling over hot onto her cheeks.

She nods and chokes out a “yeah” before pressing her forehead to her knees and letting herself cry silently. Michonne’s hand stays pressed over hers.

When her tears subside Beth straightens up and wipes at her cheeks. She glances toward the twin bed on the other side of the room, empty because Carol has watch with Sasha until four when Daryl and Tyreese take over. She relaxes her hand and squeezes Michonne’s fingers.

“I’m gonna go get a drink of water.”

Michonne nods and curls back into her pillow. Beth slips out of bed and grabs her knife sheath from the nightstand and her boots from the floor before padding toward the hallway. The door to Rick’s room is ajar and she pauses, pressing her fingertips to the doorframe. All she can hear is Rick’s soft snores. 

She shakes her head and continues toward the stairs.

Daryl and Tyreese have taken the bedroom off the kitchen but it’s a small room with only the one bed and Beth knows that Daryl hates the confined space so he’s exactly where she expects him to be, stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace. It’s warm with the fire still burning so he only has the poncho draped over him. Beth sets her knife and boots on the floor and eases herself down next to him, curled up on her side with her hands pillowed under her cheek. 

“Beth?”

She shifts a little closer. “It’s strange sleepin’ without Judith.”

He squints at her through the darkness and nods. A few moments later he turns onto his side and shuffles across the floor, flipping up the edge of the poncho for her to share.

 

~*~

 

The next morning they’re all in the kitchen eating breakfast before a group heads out on a run when Daryl comes in through the back door, goes to the sink to turn the faucet on, and produces water hot enough to create steam. Cheers go up around the room and Maggie grabs the sides of Daryl’s vest and pulls him down to kiss him full on the mouth with a resounding smack. He stumbles back away from her, looking startled.

“Maggie,” Beth chastises, though her voice is laced with laughter.

Rick runs his hand back and forth through the hot water. “I kind of want to kiss him too.”

“Well don’t.” Daryl glares at everyone around the room as if warding them all off any further shows of appreciation. He catches Beth eye last and his face goes even pinker before he looks away and ducks his head. “Should head out anyway,” he mutters as he moves back towards the door. 

Beth watches him, feeling suddenly as if her entire body’s been hollowed out and filled up with warm air. Rick and Sasha follow him after a moment and she continues staring at the door that swings shut behind them until she hears Tara ask who should get the first shower.

There’s a pause before anyone says anything and then Maggie grabs Glenn’s hand and starts tugging him into the hallway. “Well if no one else wants it.”

“You’re just gonna get dirty again diggin’ trenches,” Beth calls after her, but she can already hear the two of them running up the stairs.

“Sounds like they’re going to be pretty dirty in the shower too,” Tara says with a smirk that falters when Michonne kicks her lightly under the table. Beth glances sideways at Carl next to her who only snorts and rolls his eyes.

Twenty minutes later when Maggie and Glenn come back downstairs looking happy and relaxed, Beth and Judith are the only ones left in the kitchen, everyone else having headed outside to continue work on the trenches. 

Maggie collapses into the chair next to Judith’s highchair. “That was amazin’.”

“I really don’t need details.”

“Not that… although…” Maggie winks at Glenn who grins back and nearly smacks into the doorframe on his way outside. “You want a turn?”

Beth watches Glenn’s retreating form through the window as he heads toward where Tyreese is standing knee deep in the beginnings of a trench, and then raises her eyebrow at her sister. 

“With the shower!” Maggie reaches out to swat at her and Beth jumps away, giggling, unable to contain the bubble of giddiness in her chest and soon both women are laughing together, Beth doubled over next to the counter as she tries to catch her breath. Judith shrieks along with them and waves a spoon over her head and as Maggie calms down she reaches out and captures the little girl’s hand in hers, making her yell even louder. 

Beth watches them out of the corner of her eye as she finishes wiping down the counter, a smile stretched wide across her face.

 

~*~

 

She stands still under the shower head for a few minutes, letting the near-to-too-hot water cascade over her head and shoulders as steam fills the small space and dirty water swirls around her feet and down the drain. It’s been months since she’s had a shower, years since she’s had a hot one, and she thought it would be satisfying enough to jump in and get clean but she already doesn’t want to leave and she slicks her hair back and tilts her face into the pelting water with a long sigh. Maybe someday there will be time and security enough to put the stopper in the drain and let the bathtub fill, submerge her entire body in a blanket of silky warmth and soak until her skin turns pruney. 

But for now there are things to do and other people who won’t appreciate her using up all the hot water so she pops the top of the shampoo sitting on the edge of the tub and squirts a large dollop into her hand, inhaling deeply as she lathers up her hair and the rich scent of peppermint wafts around her. She makes efficient use of the rest of her time, conditions her hair, scrubs her body with soap and a washcloth until the water sluicing down her legs runs clear, and then shuts off the water and wrings out her hair. 

There’s an assortment of toiletries on the counter - lotion, more soap, deodorant and toothpaste - and Beth can’t help but grin at the twelve different colored toothbrushes all lined up and labeled in Sharpie with each person’s name. As she brushes her teeth she watches her reflection in the partially fogged up mirror, leaning close and running the tip of her finger over the raised pink scar curving along her cheekbone. She spits and rinses, sets her toothbrush down between Carol’s and Maggie’s and then steps back and lets her towel drop. 

Beads of water still cling to her arms and legs and her skin is flushed pink from the heat of the shower and the rough scrub of the washcloth. Her hair hangs down long to the bottom of her rib cage in a wet tangle, framing the swell of her breasts, pink nipples tightening in the cooling air. She presses her hands to the flat of her belly and smoothes them down and out to the flare of her hips. She’s leaner than she remembers - collar and hip bones sharper - but there’s a deep curve of muscle in her upper arms, a strength in the flex of her thighs. Near imperceptible changes that would barely have registered if she had spent the last few months looking at herself in a mirror, but the clean, scarred woman reflected back at her doesn’t seem to fit any version of herself she understands.

On the road, on the run, armed in a persistent camouflage of dirt and blood and sweat, she had been able to disappear into nature like a chameleon fading into the background, still there, still moving, still breathing, but hidden, absorbed by the world. She had tapped into something wild and feral and yet still entirely human, maybe more human than she had ever been, raw and real and bare even under all that mess. And now that’s it’s stripped away she has the fleeting desire to run outside and roll around in the dirt until she feels like Beth again.

Instead, she shakes her head and turns away from the mirror to slip into the clean clothes she had brought with her into the bathroom - a pair of jeans, a blue camisole, and a plaid green button down. She combs out her hair, leaving it down to dry and heads downstairs where Maggie is trying to entertain Judith with a pile of toys.

 

~*~

 

Later that afternoon after another full day of cleaning Beth relaxes back on the living room floor watching as Judith attempts to pull herself up to standing using the sofa cushions. The run group isn’t back yet and everyone is still outside working on various projects so the house is quiet save for Judith’s tiny grunts of effort. She finally gets all the way to her feet and bounces at the knees in excitement, but quickly loses her balance and falls hard on her butt, topping over onto her back and letting out a startled whimper.

Beth smiles widely at her and claps her hands. “Judy that looked like fun! Let’s try again.” She scoops Judith up and holds her close, nuzzling her face against her neck and inhaling her clean baby smell, making Judith giggle before setting her back on the ground. 

After her nap, the little girl had gotten her own bath in the kitchen sink and then Beth had pulled her hair up into a ponytail at the top of her head and dressed her in a floral print dress with pink leggings and a blue cardigan. The whole ensemble is a striking reminder of how much she’s grown from the newborn Beth had once held nestled in her arms and it makes her heart twinge with a bittersweet pride.

She hears the rumble of the truck engine then coming up the drive, followed by the sound of car doors slamming and Rick’s voice as he greets someone in the yard. The front door opens a minute later and he walks in, followed closely by Daryl. Beth immediately notes the streaks of drying blood painted up both their arms and necks and a jaw-clenching tension in Rick’s face that relaxes into a soft smile when his eyes land on her and Judith. 

“There’s our girls.”

He comes over and crouches down next to them, tugs at the ends of Beth’s hair and runs a finger along the sleeve of Judith’s cardigan. She’s managed to pull herself up against the couch again and she has her face pressed into the cushion as she blows spit bubbles.

“Run into trouble?” Beth asks quietly.

“We’re okay.”

Beth tilts her head to the side to look behind him at Daryl. He gives her a nod as he leans his shoulder into the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Walkers in the house.”

Rick’s eyes stay on Judith, his gaze heavy and affectionate all at once and Beth feels her chest constrict, but she forces a smile.

“I dressed her up a bit. I couldn’t help it. Thought she deserved something nice.”

“It’s good to see her like this.” Rick tears his eyes away from his daughter and hangs his head for a moment, exhaling loudly before looking back up at Beth. “Everything good here?”

She nods. “Got some more cleaning done. And the trenches are comin’ along real well.” A slow grin plays across her face. “Everyone keeps talkin’ ‘bout how Daryl’s the new favorite.”

Daryl scowls. “Just fixed a damn water heater. Aint hard.”

Rick huffs out a laugh and shakes his head at Beth as she rolls her eyes. Judith looks up from the sofa and reaches a hand toward her dad, tilts off balance and flails into his knee. Rick catches her and holds her still, careful to keep her at a distance so she’s not touching the blood on his jeans. Beth leans forward and curls her hands under Judith’s armpits to hold her steady so Rick can let go.

“Shower’s free,” she murmurs. 

Judith wiggles in her grasp, stretching her arms out towards Rick with a whimper. He curls his fingers under Judith’s and leans in to press a kiss to the back of her hand before getting up and heading towards the stairs, clapping Daryl on the back of the shoulder as he passes. Beth and Daryl both watch him as he goes and then Daryl turns back around and meets her eyes when she stands and swings Judith up into her hip. 

“Was it bad?” She asks, making her way closer. 

“Shouldn’t ask if you don’t want to know.”

“Wasn’t askin’ cause I wanted to know.” Beth touches his hand and when he doesn’t brush her away she curls her fingers around his wrist, pressing into his pulse point. 

Daryl shrugs, biting his lower lip and watching Judith as she plays with fistful of Beth’s hair.

“Y’look nice,” he blurts out suddenly, eyes flickering over to hers. 

Beth’s lips part in surprise, warmth blooming across her cheeks. “Oh. I just.” She wraps a hand around Judith’s to try to untangle it from her hair. “Thank you.”

Daryl nods, already pivoting toward the front door with both hands firmly gripping the strap of his crossbow. “Should go help Sasha with the truck.” He brushes past Glenn on his way out, his head hanging low, eyes on the ground. 

Glenn points his thumb over his shoulder. “What’s his problem?”

“Think I am,” Beth says with a barely suppressed smile.

“Need me to beat him up?” 

Beth giggles and Judith joins in, holding her hand out to Glenn and opening and closing her fist in an upside wave. He frowns at both of them. 

“Hey, I would. I could… For my sister I could.”

“I know.” Beth nods and schools her face into a look of seriousness as she pops herself up closer to him and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

Glenn blushes and leans in to brush a kiss to her temple in return and then Judith’s for good measure.

 

~*~

 

Beth is leaning back against the wall in the hallway, her hands clasped in front of her, when Daryl opens the bathroom door and stops short at the sight of her. His hair is still damp and sticking up all over the place like he ran a towel over it and he’s changed into a pair of jeans that rest low on his hips and fit snug around his thighs, and a light blue button down with the sleeves torn off.

“Hi,” Beth grins, eyes trailing over him down to his boots. “I’ve never seen you wear jeans before.”

“’S the only thing that fit.” Daryl looks down the hallway, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and not a little trepidation. “You need somethin’?”

“Nope.” He’s holding the pants he had been wearing bundled up in one hand and Beth reaches for them. “I know they’re your favorite. Want me to patch ‘em again?”

Daryl nods, handing them over with a mumbled ‘thanks’ and Beth turns toward the stairs. She pauses for only a moment to look back over her shoulder at him. “I like the jeans though.” 

She doesn’t wait to see his response.

 

~*~

 

Work on the trenches is halted when it rains and strands everyone indoors for two days straight. They’re accustomed enough to living out of each other’s pockets so being holed up in the same space isn’t enough to make them go too stir crazy and with everyone curled up together in the living room keeping warm by the fire it’s down right cozy. They entertain themselves by reading and playing card games and listening to Judith’s happy babbling as she gets passed from person to person for snuggles. 

Rick and Carol are the only ones who seem too antsy to settle in and they spend almost the entirety of the second day sitting out on the damp porch together with their weapons draped over their laps. 

The clouds dissipate that night and the next morning brings clear blue skies and dew that sparkles bright in the sun and makes everything look clean and new. They take advantage of the softened ground to make more headway on the trenches and everyone’s been working hard for a couple hours already when Beth heads out with a canteen slung over her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, crisp air scented with damp earth and grass filling her lungs, and tugs up the zipper on her fleece pullover to ward off the cold as she makes her way across the yard where Daryl, Rick, and Tyreese are digging a few yards away from each other. 

Daryl looks up from his work when he sees her coming, cupping his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, and Beth gives him a wide smile that he meets with a slight quirk of his lips.

She reaches Tyreese first and hands him the canteen. “Thought you could use some water.”

Tyreese pauses, leaning heavily on this shovel and giving her a grateful smile before taking a long swig. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he says with a wink as he caps the canteen and hands it back.

Beth stops at Daryl next, peering down into the trench he’s standing about four feet deep in.

“Looks good.”

“S a hole in the ground.” 

She hears what sounds like a snort coming from Rick’s direction and Beth rolls her eyes and dangles the canteen in front of Daryl. He accepts it with a nod and Beth takes the opportunity while he drinks to look him over. His arms are bare and streaked with mud and his sweat-soaked shirt clings to his chest and abs.

“Beth?”

Her gaze drifts back up to his face and she shakes her head “Hmm?”

He scowls as he gives the canteen back, but it’s halfhearted and she can tell it’s only there to hide the blush that she’s sure is reflected in her own face.

When she gets to Rick he stops to duck his head into his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, leaving behind a smear of mud. He’s as dirty as Daryl and his damp, formerly white shirt sticks to him like a second skin.

“Judith sleepin’?” he asks after taking a gulp of water.

“Yeah, she went down better today. Only fussed a few minutes.”

It had been a struggle trying to get Judith on a more structured sleep schedule after months on the road where it was an impossibility. She hadn’t taken to it easily and would often spend her entire nap time crying or lying in her crib talking to herself and her stuffed animals.

Rick hands the canteen back up to her and Beth looks over her shoulder at Daryl and Tyreese who have both gone back to work, then crouches down next to Rick and meets his eyes.

“I wanted to ask you somethin'.” 

His brow furrows as he leans his arms over the handle of the shovel and Beth feels a flutter of nervousness and fiddles with the strap of the canteen. 

“I was thinkin’ maybe on nights when you and Carl are both on watch that Judith could sleep in my room.”

“Yeah, was thinkin’ the same thing.” Rick leans back to jam the shovel into the side of the trench, using his foot for leverage to dig it in deeper. “It’s good to know she’s with you.”

A relieved smile eases across Beth’s face. “Great. Thank you. That’s…” she shakes her head as she stands, feeling overly flustered. 

“Beth.” She looks back down at him. “It doesn’t just have to be on nights we’re on watch.”

His words spill slowly over her, their meaning smoothing away the coil of tension in her stomach and planting in its place something much lighter that flutters pleasantly. She’s unable to do anything more than nod at his offered smile before he goes back to work. 

She wanders back closer to Daryl. “If any of you need a break I could take over for a little while.”

Daryl eyes her through a fringe of hair. “You bored?”   
She shrugs. “Feel like bein’ outside. Carol found a couple rabbits in the snares and she’s showing Tara how to dress ‘em but I already know how.”

“Stew again?”

Beth grins at him. “You complainin? Want us to order you a pizza instead?”

From behind her Rick lets out a groan. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Daryl nods his head toward the tree line. “When we get more of this dug I’ll spend a few days out huntin’. Gotta be deer in these woods with no walkers around to chase ‘em off.”

“How ‘bout you keep diggin’ and I’ll go.”

“Girl, a full grown doe weighs more’n you. You gonna carry it home on your back?”

Beth shrugs. “I’ll take Tara.”

Daryl snorts and Rick laughs. “You gonna go huntin’ with just that pistol?”

“I’ll take the crossbow.” Beth nudges it with her toe where it’s lying on the ground next to the trench and raises her eyebrow at Daryl. 

He narrows his eyes back at her and nods at the bow. “You can nock it yourself even once, I’ll get up and go huntin' right now and bring you back a ten point buck.”

“Seem pretty sure of yourself.” 

Daryl smirks, his eyes dark as they continue watching each other and Beth feels it like an electric current twining its way up her limbs and making her hum with energy. 

“You know how to use the crossbow?” Rick asks suddenly and they both turn to look at him. 

“Daryl taught me.”

“Huh.” Rick regards Daryl with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “Thought you said it was a waste of time teachin’ someone else when there’s only one crossbow.”

Daryl ducks his head low as he busies himself with tossing out another shovelful of dirt, so Beth answers for him. “I didn’t really give him a choice. Took it out of his hands and marched into the woods without him.”

Rick laughs. “Surprised you lived to talk about it.”

“Eh, he’s all bark.”

Daryl glares up at both of them. “She’s just lucky she took to it so quick.”

“Seem to remember that when I was teachin’ her to shoot too.”

Beth rolls her shoulders back and grins.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shoot,” Tyreese says, stopped in his work to listen to their conversation

“Haven’t really had the chance lately.”

Rick looks out over the yard toward the barn. “We can set up a range out here. It’d probably be good to keep up the practice. Maybe find some paintball guns to practice with. And Daryl can teach us all how to use the crossbow,” he teases.

“Naw.” Daryl concentrates on the dirt below his feet. “Was a one time thing.”

He darts a look up at Beth and then away quickly and she has the sudden overwhelming urge to jump down into the trench, wrap her arms around him, and let him surround her with all that dirt and sweat. When she glances over at Rick he’s watching Daryl but Daryl ignores everyone, digging with renewed vigor.

Beth clears her throat. “I’ll let you boys get back to work. Don’t forget to take a break to eat something later.” And with one last smile for all of them she heads out toward where Maggie and Glenn are working behind the barn. 

 

~*~

 

Several days later Rick hefts the last bag out of the bed of the truck after a run and slings it over his shoulder. He bangs on the tailgate to signal Michonne that he’s done so she can drive it back to park in the space they’ve left between the trenches. As the truck pulls forward, crunching through the gravel, Rick shields his eyes to look out over the yard where Sasha and Tyreese trade barbs as they work with Carol to drive wooden spikes into the bottom of the trench. He can hear Daryl in the barn working on one of the generators while Carl circles, peppering him with questions. Rick closes his eyes, listening to all of them working together for a moment, a smile twisting at his mouth, before heading into the house. 

He sets the bag on the couch and nods to Beth where she’s sitting on the floor in the living room with Tara sorting through the rest of the haul from the run.

“There’s some stuff for Judy in here. Clothes and toys. Some older stuff that was stored in the attic. Should still be good.”

“Thanks,” Beth grins up at him and Rick nods again before bending down to root through the box of toiletries sitting next to the couch. 

Tara holds up a lace bra embroidered with blue flowers. “Shit, I never owned anything this fancy even before the world went to hell.” She tosses it to Beth. “It’ll probably fit you better. Daryl’ll love it,” she adds casually before opening another bag. Beth’s face goes pink and she quickly slips the bra into one of the piles of clothes folded at her side. 

Rick ducks his head, biting back a smirk, thankful that Daryl is busy outside. He finds the electric shaver tucked into the corner of the box and heads toward the stairs. Halfway up he meets Maggie and Glenn, each sporting easy smiles. They’ve been taking ample advantage of having an actual bedroom and, despite their tendency to disappear from work in the middle of the day, Rick can’t blame them.

“Everything go okay?” Glenn asks with only a slightly sheepish blush.

“Yeah. Found a bunch of clothes and canned food and a stocked toolbox that got Daryl pretty happy.”

Maggie’s eyes flicker down to the shaver in Rick’s hand and her brow furrows. “You aren’t shavin’ are you?”

“Figured it’s time.” Rick rubs a palm over his beard. “Startin’ to feel like a home here. We don’t need a wild animal running around the house.”

Maggie frowns and hesitates for only a moment before reaching up to rub her fingers along his jawline. Rick huffs out a laugh and Glenn shakes his head as he moves past them down the stairs.

“Now she’s gonna be even madder I can’t grow one,” he mutters.

“You could at least try,” Maggie says as she drops her hand, gives one last forlorn glance at Rick’s face, and follows after Glenn.

“Maggie, I haven’t shaved in months.”

Rick watches them as they head outside and when the door shuts behind them his eyes flicker toward the living room where Beth is still sitting, having just seen the entire exchange. She rolls her eyes at him and he lets out another laugh as he turns back around and continues up the stairs.

Ten minutes later he’s splashing warm water over his face to rinse off the remnants of shaving cream, watching himself in the mirror as he slides his fingers along the slick newly smooth skin. His reflection, all hollowed cheeks and sharp jawline, blinks back at him like a stranger. Rick shuts off the faucet and rests his hands on the edge of the sink, water dripping off his chin as he bows his head low. There’s movement behind him and his eyes dart back up to catch Beth’s reflection. He had left the door open a crack but she had pushed it open further to lean into the doorframe. 

Her lips stretch into a slow smile as she looks over his face. “You look a lot like this guy who showed up at my Daddy’s farmhouse once screamin’ for help.”

Rick grabs a towel off the rack to pat his face dry. “Don’t feel like him.”

Beth nods. “I know what you mean.” 

Their eyes meet again in the mirror and the smile she offers him now is tinged in sadness, or maybe just too much knowledge, and Rick is struck suddenly by how changed she is from that girl who came to him asking for shooting lessons. She’s somehow softer and harder all at once, like she’s settled into her body even as she’s learned how to keep it armed against a cruel world.

“Are you gonna cut your hair too?” she asks him. 

Rick turns around and faces her as he runs his hand through the curls at the nape of his neck. “I’ll ask Carol to do it. She always did at the prison.”

“She’s on laundry duty right now. But I can do it.” Beth looks down the hallway. “Judy should sleep a little longer.”

“You ever cut hair before?”

“I cut my bangs when I was three,” she says with a shug, then laughs at his look of incredulity. “I cut Zach’s a couple times. He never complained.”

For a brief moment the name draws up a blank in his memory but then Rick remembers the shaggy haired kid that had latched onto both Beth and Daryl almost immediately after arriving at the prison. He looks back at the mirror again, eying the tendrils curling against this forehead.

“Okay.”

“Great!” Beth claps her hands together and sidles up next to him to root through one of the cabinet drawers, coming up with a pair of scissors and a comb. “Don’t worry. If it’s terrible we can just shave it all off.”

Rick glares at her as she backs out of the bathroom with a grin and a command to meet her in the kitchen where the lighting is better, and a few minutes later after ducking his head under the kitchen faucet to get his hair wet he’s sitting in a chair in front of her as she slowly combs through the tangles. Beads of water gather at the ends of his curls and drip in meandering trails down his bare neck and shoulders and he wipes at them in annoyance, but gradually relaxes into the press of Beth’s fingers at his temple to keep him still and the gentle slide of the comb against his scalp.

“I had a bad haircut once after we were first married. Took weeks before it looked right again.”

“Rick, we lived with Eugene for weeks. No one’s gonna kick you out of the house for a bad haircut.”

“So it is going to be a bad haircut.”

He can’t help but smile at her growl of frustration and he cranes his head back to look at her but she puts her hands on either side of his head to tilt his face forward again.

“Stop moving. You’re as bad as Daryl.”

“Should just put my hair in a ponytail like you did for him.”

Beth snorts. “You’d look ridiculous. Stay still.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When she finishes combing out his hair she runs her fingers through it to fluff it back up and examine the current cut and Rick’s head drops forward as her nails scratch lightly against his scalp and send a sparkling shiver down his neck and shoulders. Beth presses the pads of her fingers a little harder against his pressure points and he lets out a groan. 

“You gonna cut it or is this just a scalp massage?”

“Sorry. Your hair’s so curly,” she murmurs and he can feel her twist a strand of hair around one of her fingers.“Would take me forty-five minutes with a curling iron to get ringlets like yours.”

“Should have seen it when I was a kid.”

“Yeah?” she asks, the soft lilt of fondness in her voice as she continues playing with his hair. 

“I kind of had an afro in fourth grade.” When Beth giggles Rick nods slowly, squinting into the middle distance as he tries to picture himself at that age. “So did Shane. Think that’s why we first bonded.”

Beth reaches for the scissors on the table. “I didn’t know you had known each other that long.”

Rick hums an affirmative as she nudges his head back up. A moment later he hears the first snip and a wet curl hits his shoulder. 

“He was different before the farm. Always had my back. Good with Carl. Funny. God he was funny. Knew how to tell a story. Could make the dumbest shit sound like the funniest thing you ever heard.” Rick huffs out a humorless laugh. “And I knew he loved me. I knew that. But he always had a temper. Always thought he knew best. Even when we were kids. And as much as I loved him too… nothing that happened surprised me. Think I always knew he had it in him.”

He closes his eyes and concentrates on Beth’s touch at the nape of his neck as she pulls his hair out straight, flattens it between two fingers, and snips off the ends. 

“Maybe it’s always been in me too,” Rick mutters. He picks up a hair clipping that had fallen into his lap and rolls it between his thumb and index finger. 

“I don’t think it matters,” Beth says with a sigh. “Can’t judge who we are against who we were anymore. Doesn’t keep us accountable or human. Just makes us crazy.” 

She steps in front of him and leans down, sliding her hands into the hair at his temples to check that it’s even. Rick closes his eyes and lets out a breath. 

“So what does keep us human?”

When she doesn’t answer he cracks one eye open to look at her. She slides her hands down to rest against his neck, the expression on her face thoughtful. Finally she just shrugs up one shoulder and grins at him.   
“I don’t know. But a new haircut’s a good start.”

Rick laughs, his eyes trailing over the sweep of blonde hair spilling over her shoulder.

“Should let me do yours later. It’s only fair.”

Beth snorts. “No thanks. I’ll have Carol do it.”

When Rick narrows his eyes at her Beth only smirks and stands back up to move behind him again. 

“I’m not dumb enough to let someone who doesn’t know what they’re doin’ near my hair with scissors.” She curls her fingers into his hair, tightens her grip, and tugs lightly. “This is a good length. Don’t want it too short.”

The back door opens then and Daryl walks in, pausing when his eyes land on Rick.

“Huh.”

“Doesn’t he look nice?”

Daryl shrugs, grunting something indecipherable under his breath as he shuts the door behind him and goes to the sink to wash his hands.

Rick grins and Beth lightly smacks his arm. “See, I told you it wasn’t going to be a bad haircut.”

She continues combing through his hair, making little snips here and there until Judith’s loud piercing cry sounds from upstairs. Beth moves to set the scissors down but Daryl brushes his hand against her back to stop her as he walks past.

“I got it.”

He returns a few minutes later with Judith in his arms, her hair a wild static mess and her face still splotchy pink and wet from her tears. She lifts her head when she spots Beth, but takes one look at Rick when he reaches for her and hides her face back against Daryl’s chest. Rick drops his arms, frowning.

“Oh,” Beth says softly, “She might not recognize you without the beard.”

Daryl bounces Judith lightly in his arms, “Hey kid, ’s okay. Just your pa.”

Rick reaches out again and tugs on her foot and Judith turns her head to peer at him suspiciously. Behind him he can hear Beth breathe out a soft laugh as she sets the scissors down and starts brushing away stray hair clippings. She gives his shoulders a squeeze and leans in to press a kiss to the side of his neck. 

“It’s okay. She’ll figure it out. Talk to her. She’ll recognize your voice.”

He reaches up to to cover one of her hands with his before standing and giving his daughter a tentative smile.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s me.”

 

~*~

 

They break into the wine supply for the first time that night. Work on the trenches is nearly complete and the additional protection instills a firmer sense of security that allows them to lower their guard. At least slightly. They still assign a night watch, rotating in thirty minute shifts so they all have a chance to join the crowded candlelit dining room for a hearty meal of rabbit and cornbread and vegetables. 

There are four empty wine bottles on the table by the time they finish eating and their conversations start to fade into a relaxed quiet. Even Judith, perched in her highchair at the corner of the table between Beth and Rick, seems content to take a break from yelling at fistfuls of her food to slouch in her chair and suck on her fingers, her eyelids drooping as she struggles to stay awake. 

Tara looks around the table with a smile. “Someone should make a toast.”

Everyone automatically turns toward Rick and he shakes his head. “Why me?”

“That’s kind of what you do, man.” Glenn gestures toward him with his glass, wine sloshing over the rim and dribbling onto his hand. “You’re our leader. Our speechmaker. Our William Wallace. You’re supposed to rouse your troops into action, lead us to glory with inspiring words.”

“Yeah, Rick, rouse us.” Michonne grins at him.

Beth lifts an amused eyebrow at Glenn from across the table. “Are we marching into battle?”

“I’m not marching anywhere if it involves leaving this wine behind,” Sasha mumbles into her glass as she takes a long sip. Maggie hums in agreement as she drapes her arm over Sasha’s chair and leans in close to rest her head on her shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. 

“It’s a metaphor.” Glenn makes a face at Beth and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“C’mon, dad.” Carl nudges Rick with his elbow. He has his own glass of wine in front of him that he’s been nursing slowly through dinner, trying not to cringe at each taste. 

“Speech. Speech. Speech,” Glenn starts chanting slowly. Maggie and Carl join him and Michonne starts smacking the table in rhythm and soon they are all chanting together for Rick to give a toast. He throws an exasperated look at Daryl when he joins in but Daryl only shrugs and holds his glass up with a small smile. 

“Okay. Okay.” Rick huffs out a laugh and holds up his glass to appease them into silence. They cheer in victory and pick up their own glasses, watching him expectantly. 

He looks around at all them, eyes soft and contemplative. The candles lined up across the middle of the table radiate a warm yellow glow that envelops everyone in an oblong ball of light, fading out beyond them into the darker corners of the room. Rick’s gaze falls to the deep red liquid in his glass before raising it higher.

“To family.”

“To family,” they all echo before drinking.

“Well I feel battle ready now,” Tara says dryly after draining the last of her wine. Everyone laughs and Rick glares at them, lips pursed in a pout.

Sasha tilts her head to the side and scrutinizes Rick through narrowed eyes. “All his oratory powers must have been in his hair.”

“I’m fine with that trade-off.” Michonne says. “‘bout time you showed your face around here again.

Glenn holds up the new bottle of wine he’s just opened. “To Rick’s naked face.”

“To Rick’s naked face,” they all cheer amid giggles.

“Alright. We’re done,” Rick says firmly, beckoning towards Glenn for the wine. He fills his empty glass and then drains the rest into Beth’s when she nudges it toward him.

“Careful, wine’ll hit you harder than you expect when you’re not used to it,” Maggie cautions.

Beth takes a delicate sip and lets the taste roll around her tongue, considering. “It’s not nearly as strong as moonshine,” she shrugs, watching as Maggie’s eyes go wide.

“When were you drinkin’ moonshine?”

Daryl is slouched comfortably in his chair with his wine glass resting on his thigh, chin tipped low to his chest as if he’s not paying attention but when Beth slides her eyes toward him she can see the small smirk playing at his mouth.

Maggie gasps. “Daryl Dixon, you gave my baby sister moonshine?!”

“She aint no baby,” he scoffs.

“So that’s what you two were up to,” Rick says, watching them speculatively.

“Aint like we were havin’ fun,” Daryl grumbles.

“It was kind of fun. And you’re one to talk.” Beth rolls her eyes at her sister and looks around the table. “When she was sixteen she came home so drunk one night she puked all over the front doorstep.”

Glenn snickers and Maggie elbows him in the side.

“At least I wasn’t drinkin’ moonshine.”

“What were you drinking?” Sasha asks.

“Wine coolers.” Maggie looks a little sheepish, but then a slow nostalgic smile spreads across her face. “Daddy was so pissed. Made me repaint the entire porch as punishment.”

“She was out there blubbering the entire time, takin’ breaks to throw up in the bushes. Shawn and I finally went out and helped her cause we felt so bad.”

Maggie gives her a warm smile and reaches across the table to clasp Beth’s hand. 

“Okay, wait.” Michonne holds up her hand. “Let’s get back to this moonshine. You been holding out the good stuff, Dixon?”

“Nah, was that still we found out near the prison.”

Rick raises an eyebrow. “So it was bootleg moonshine.”

“You gonna arrest us, Officer?” Daryl drawls.

“Nah. I’ll let it slide this time. ‘Sides, I don’t have my handcuffs anymore.”

“Damn shame,” Michonne says as she take a sip of wine.

Beth has to smother back the giggle that bubbles up in her chest. She lets out a tiny choking nose and pushes her wine glass away, glaring at it as if it’s at fault.

Maggie eyes Rick appraisingly. “It is easier to picture you in that cop uniform again.”

Glenn rolls his eyes and Beth sighs loudly. “Keep it in your pants, Maggie.”

Daryl snorts and Glenn mouths a “thank you” at her, jolting forward when Maggie smacks him in the back of the head.

“What? She said it.”

Beth shakes her head at him, frowning in reproval.

When Judith starts fussing then Beth turns her attention back toward the little girl, grabbing the towel draped over the back of the highchair to clean off her face and hands. Judith continues to whine so Beth starts singing softly. “Yesterday a child came out to wonder, caught a dragonfly inside a jar, fearful when the sky was full of thunder, and tearful at the falling of a star.” 

The rest of the room is quiet and she can feel everyone watching her but she she keeps her eyes on Judith as she sings, her voice growing stronger as the song continues. 

“Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now, cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town, and they tell him take your time it won’t be long now, till you drag your feet to slow the circles down.”

When she’s done Tara applauds, looking impressed.

“See. Our very own Taylor Swift,” Glenn beams at her.

“You know the real Taylor Swift could still be out there somewhere writin’ her own songs about sleepin’ under a tarp and eatin’ squirrel,” Beth points out.

“Nah, there was probably some underground bunker in Hollywood all the famous people went to once things went south,” Glenn says. “They’ve been livin easy on organic green smoothies and tofu ever since.”

“Sounds like we’re the lucky ones,” Daryl snorts.

Michonne shakes her head. “They would have all turned on each other eventually anyway. Probably just a bunch of walkers down there bumping into each other and growling at the walls.”

“It’s weird to think about, right?” Tara asks, looking almost excited. “Famous walkers. Tom Hanks could be out there right now gnawing on someone’s entrails for dinner.”

Everyone looks mildly disturbed and Daryl pushes his chair back with a nods toward Michonne. “’S our turn for watch.” He tilts in close to Beth as he moves to get up, his forehead brushing against her shoulder. Beth turns her head into him, his hair wispy against her cheek, and then he’s moving away and heading toward the door, grabbing his crossbow from where it’s leaned up against the wall.

Michonne winks at Beth. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t stumble into any trenches.” 

Daryl’s griping about how he can hold his liquor just fine as the front door shuts behind them. 

There’s a warmth in her cheeks that doesn’t have anything to do with the wine and Beth casts her eyes quickly around the table. No one seems to have even noticed the rare public affection from Daryl but she’s pretty sure the smile on Rick’s face is especially knowing as he peers into the bottom of his glass.

“I bet the Beyonce walker is still the most fabulous,” Glenn is saying when she catches up with the conversation.

“Careful puttin’ a ring on it though,” Sasha teases him and he stands up to high five her over Maggie’s head.

“And the Christopher Walken walker is still the most terrifying,” Maggie adds.

“I’m sorry… for eating… your brains,” Tara says in the halting rise and fall of Christopher Walken’s voice just as Carol and Tyreese walk in the door. Everyone laughs loudly at the confused expressions on their faces and Tara rolls her shoulders back like she’s pleased with herself.

 

~*~

 

Later that night, long after everyone has drifted off to bed in a sleepy wine haze, Daryl lies in the living room with one arm folded behind his head as he contemplates the ceiling through hooded eyes. He’s tired, but it’s a comfortable lazy kind of tired he feels content to float in for awhile amid his own meandering thoughts. When he hears soft footsteps padding down the stairs he doesn’t turn his head but he feels something warm bloom in this chest along with the normal skip of nerves that are dulled only slightly by the alcohol still flowing through his veins.

Beth is curling herself down next to him under the blanket a moment later.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He hums and slides his arm out from between them so she can snuggle in closer, pillowing her head on his bicep. “Don’t need an excuse to sleep down here,” he mutters.

Beth smiles, pressing her face into his side, and rests her hand against his chest where he knows she can feel the steady thump-thump-thump of his heart. She’s quiet and still once she settles and Daryl relaxes into the increasingly familiar feel of her body next to his, wanting to be gentle and yet crush her tighter to him all at the same time.

“I really couldn’t sleep though,” she whispers after a minute and Daryl laughs softly.

“I aint singin’ any lullabies.”

“What about a bedtime story?”

“I look like I know a lot of bedtime stories?”

Beth leans up on her elbow and twists her lips together in thought as she looks at him. “Tell me about one of your favorite movies. One of the John Wayne ones.”

“I ‘unno.”

She searches his face, lifting her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Just like hearing you talk. Doesn’t matter about what.”

Daryl swallows hard, but gives her a jerky nod and she rewards him with a small smile before settling back down into his side. 

He doesn’t have to search too far back into his memories. He’s spent long nights on watch replaying some of his favorite movies in his head to keep himself entertained and his more troublesome thoughts at bay. 

“Always liked The Searchers.”

“What’s it about?”

“This guy lookin’ for his niece after she gets kidnapped by indians.”

“He find her?”

“Y’ want me to ruin the ending?”

Beth giggles and shakes her head, burrowing in closer. “No. Start from the beginning.”

Daryl curls his arm around her, fingers trailing through her hair as he looks up at the ceiling, watching it as if the movie is being projected there. “Starts when he - John Wayne - comes home from fightin’ in the war.”

It gets easier as he continues, as he talks the way she wanted him to about the five year trek through the wilderness to find a little girl, complete with tragedy, shootouts, and the obligatory love story. He’s in the middle of telling her about the tumbling brawl between Martin and Charlie for the hand of Miss Laurie, when they hear more footsteps on the stairs, heavier this time and catching the creaky third step. He and Beth both look up, knowing it’s too early for a change in watch.

Rick pauses at the bottom of the stairs, looking over at them briefly before continuing out the front door and shutting it firmly behind him. 

Beth meets Daryl’s eyes with a frown. “Do you want to—”

He nods, already extracting himself from her to grab his jacket and his crossbow. When he looks back Beth is burritoing herself back under his blanket and Daryl presses his lips together to fight back a smile. He passes Glenn on the porch and they nod to each other, both assuming that Rick would have alerted everyone if there was an emergency. 

The moon is hiding behind a thick layer of clouds that had rolled in gray and portentous during the late afternoon so it’s near pitch dark but he can just make out Rick’s form crouched near the side of one of the trenches. Daryl approaches him slowly, his breath billowing out in white puffs around him as he walks. 

“Gettin’ sick?” he asks when he stops, fumbling in his pocket for his lighter and cigarettes. 

Rick hangs his head low between his shoulders and shakes it slowly. “Couldn’t breathe in there.”

It takes a couple clicks of the lighter before it comes to life with a soft hiss and Daryl cups his hand over the flame as he lights the cigarette in his mouth, waiting for Rick to continue. 

“We think we’re prepared with trenches and supplies and an escape plan.” Rick waves his hand back towards Glenn on the porch and lets out a derisive laugh. “Night watch. One person with a gun. We all sleep thinking that’s gonna be enough. But it’s never enough. We’re never prepared. The next Governor. The next Terminus. They’re out there. They’re comin’ and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

He growls out his last words and lurches up to his feet, pacing away and then back.

Daryl squints down at the glowing end of the cigarette. “Can’t burn the world down,” he says quietly enough that he’s not even sure Rick heard him until the other man lets out another laugh.

“Can’t burn the world down,” Rick repeats. He stops next to Daryl and they stand side-by-side facing the road. “Fuck I wish it was that easy.”

“Wouldn’t be easy.” Daryl takes a long drag and exhales slowly. “The things you have to do. The choices you have to make to keep us alive. They aint easy. If they were…” He shrugs. “’S better knowin’ the next governor is somewhere out there ‘stead of livin’ here in the middle of us.”

Rick shifts his weight to one leg, rolls his shoulders back and tilts his head from one side to another, letting out a loud exhausted breath. When he speaks again his voice is softer, drained of its previous tension. “I know it’s good here. I know Judith and Carl need a place like this. Hell we all need a place like this. But I’m crawling out of my skin. Startin’ to think I’m never gonna feel right again if I spend all the good moments just waitin’ for the bad. I’m fuckin’ it up.”

“Nah.” Daryl flicks the cigarette into the trench and they both watch the arc of light it makes before extinguishing in the dirt. “When I’s a kid it wasn’t always terrible. Before my mom died. Before Merle took off. There were good days.” He folds his arms across his chest, fists clenched. “There’s this piece of shit bowling alley we’d go to, play a few rounds. My mom was real good. Always seemed to like bein’ there. My dad’d buy pizza. Merle’d bitch about the shoes. Wasn’t perfect but it was nice. Felt like what a family was supposed to be.”

In his head, crystal clear as if it’s happening in front of him, he can hear the whirling roll of the ball against the sleek wooden floor of the bowling lane, the crack of the pins as they fall, the sound of his mother’s voice telling him he’d done a good job. 

“Used to hope it would last, but it never did. Eventually I just started hatin’ it. Seemed like it’d be better not to know what it felt like when things weren’t ugly. Least I wouldn’t know what I was missin’.” He glances over at Rick. “Doesn’t mean you’re fucked up, just means the world is. Always has been.”

“Not sure that makes me feel better.”

Daryl snorts. “Yeah.”

Rick curls his hand over Daryl’s shoulder, leaning into him slightly. “What about now? Things are good here. You still hate it?”

“I dunno. No.” His mouth feels stuck, like it’s physically impossibly to move his jaw as he searches for the right words that have all seemed to logjam in his brain. “Guess I never felt this good before,” he finally manages to get out slowly. “Makes it seem like the end might worth it. Probably stupid. Just means it’s gonna hurt more.”

A genuine smile flits across Rick’s face as he shakes his head. “It’s not stupid.” He squeezes Daryl’s shoulder and lets his hand drop away. “You can head back. I’ll be in soon.”

Daryl narrows his eyes at him but Rick nods back toward the house with another tired smile.

When he gets back inside and shuts the door behind him the warm contained air of the house wraps around him and makes his chilled skin burn and he shivers as he leans his crossbow against the sofa and eases off his jacket. Beth has curled herself up facing toward the fire and he lies down next to her, trying not to wake her if she’s fallen asleep.

“Everything okay?”

“’S fine.”

Beth wiggles a little to unwrap the blanket from around her body, letting him have one end to slip under. He turns onto his side and folds himself around her, resting his hand tentatively on her hip. 

“So, did he find her?” she murmurs.

“What?”

“Debbie. John Wayne’s niece. He find her?”

“Yeah, he did. Took her back to be with her people.”

“Good,” Beth sighs happily, melting back against his chest. Daryl drops his chin down, sliding his nose along the curve of her ear, then settles and closes his eyes. 

 

~*~

 

The next morning they wake up to a fine layer of snow dusting the ground. It melts off entirely by noon but it’s a reminder that they’re headed deeper into winter so with work on the trenches complete they refocus their energy on stockpiling supplies and sending out run groups to scavenge for more vehicles, weapons, and food.

Daryl keeps an eye on Rick whenever they’re out clearing a new location, making note of the continued line of tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw that doesn’t relax even when he’s back at the farm with his children. It’s only a matter of time before all that anxiety coiling up inside him snaps back out like a spring so early one morning just as the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon Daryl drags a groggy Rick out of the house to go hunting.

He’s certain Rick knows what he’s doing but the man goes willingly, even if he’s a bit surly about it, and the longer they’re out in the woods, quiet and alert as they track a deer, Daryl sees some of that tension drain away. It’s been awhile since the two of them have been out alone together but they flow into easy synchronization, matching step for step, reading each other with one look or touch. 

Rick lets out a whoop when Daryl brings down the deer in the late afternoon and even later back at the farm when the family is greeting them like heroes for coming home with meat that isn’t squirrel or rabbit and Judith is squirming in Beth’s arms to reach for him there’s an easy smile on Rick’s face. 

 

~*~

 

Beth turns her face into her pillow and burrows deeper under the pile of blankets, letting herself enjoy their warmth for a few minutes before she has to get up. The room is still dark, the quilt covering the window blocking out the light from the rising sun, but when she cracks an eyelid open she can see the faint glow illuminating the edges of the quilt growing steadily brighter. 

She’s careful not to disturb Michonne as she slips out of bed, shivering in the drafty air despite her sweatshirt and thick fuzzy socks. She tugs a purple beanie on over her messy sleep-tangled hair and slips on a pair of moccasin boots, tucking in the bottoms of her flannel pants. The pale blue UNC sweatshirt Maggie had found on a supply run is new and soft but baggy on her and she curls her fingers up into the overly long sleeves to warm them as she leaves the room and makes her way quietly down the hallway to the stairs.

The house is so often filled with the noise and movement of twelve people, the buzz of circuitous energy they feed into each other as they work and talk and sit together to share meals, but as much as Beth finds comfort in the community she enjoys the stillness of these early mornings when her family is still tucked into the safety of their beds. The crisp newness of morning air sharpens the softer edges of her sleep addled brain as she moves through the house, assured at the sight of everything in its place. 

Sun streams into the kitchen through the bay window and the fire either Daryl or Ty started on watch is crackling steadily in the fireplace. Beth stands with her hands held out over the flames to ease the chill from her fingertips for a few minutes before grabbing a pot from the rack hanging over the island and filling it with water. She sets it to boil on the stove and goes about pulling everything out of the cupboards she needs for coffee and Judith’s cereal. She’s looking out the window over the frost covered yard and braiding her hair into a long plait over her shoulder when Daryl comes in the back door, puffing air into his cupped hands to warm them and stopping to knock his boots against the door frame to keep from tracking mud into the house.

Beth smiles at him as he rasps out a ‘morning’ and sets his crossbow down in a chair at the table. He hesitates before coming closer and leaning back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest and scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor.

“Are you sure you’re warm enough out there?” Beth eyes the denim jacket he has on over what she knows is just a sleeveless button-down. When he only shrugs in response she reaches up to press the back of her hand against his cheek. “Daryl,” she gasps at the icy chill of his skin against her fingertips, and cups his face with her other hand.

His eyes flutter closed for just a moment at the warm touch but then he’s shying away and narrowing his eyes at her. “M’fine,” he mumbles, batting her hands down.

Beth’s lips press into a firm line as she turns her attention back to the stove where the water has come to a slow rolling boil. “Fine, but if you get sick don’t be expectin’ me to take care of you.”

“I aint gettin’ sick.” He watches her as she removes the pot of water from the heat and starts to stir in heaping spoonfuls of ground coffee. “You really wouldn’t?” he asks in that low voice he uses sometimes when they’re alone, not quite meeting her eyes as he picks his thumb at a spot of dirt on the counter.

There’s a familiar fluttering deep under her ribcage and Beth grips the spoon in her hand tighter to steady herself before looking up at him and raising one eyebrow, trying not to smile too brightly.

“Like you’d even let me.”

Daryl squints at her and then looks away, a blush working its way up his neck. Beth figures it’s enough to warm him up a bit at least and she smiles as she sets a mesh strainer over one of the coffee mugs and starts to slowly pour the coffee from the pot so it doesn’t splatter.

“My mom,” Daryl starts, eyes on the ground. “Whenever I’s sick she’d make me crackers with peanut butter.” His face scrunches up as if he’s surprised to have stumbled upon the memory. “Don’t know what good that was ‘sposed to do. But it was nice.”

Beth watches him, waiting to see if he’ll continue but he just shrugs and scratches his thumb through the hair on his chin. Above them the ceiling creaks as someone steps out of bed. 

“And you told me you didn’t like peanut butter,” Beth says as she nudges his arm with the steaming mug of coffee. He takes it from her with a bow of his head and wraps his hands around the warm ceramic. 

“I don’t. Was still nice.” He looks down into his coffee, working his lower lip between his teeth and Beth trails her eyes over his features, swallowing back the whirlpool of emotion he so effortlessly stirs up inside her - affection and heartbreak and desire all swirling together until all she wants to do is wrap herself around him until it settles.

Instead, she tsks at him and reaches up to brush the hair hanging over his eyes back from his forehead. “Should let me do it again,” she murmurs.

“Hurt the first time.”

“I’ll be nicer.”

Daryl snorts but he doesn’t move away from her and her fingers linger against his warming skin, sliding back through his hair and tucking it behind his ear. He watches her with an intent and steady focus that slinks its way under her skin and heats her up from the inside out.

She pulls away with a faint smile and she’s about to turn back to her task when he sets his coffee on the counter hard enough to make her jump at the noise and in a sudden rush of motion takes a step closer and reaches up to cup her face in his hands. Beth’s lips part in surprise and Daryl pauses like he’s startled at his own actions, eyes flickering between her eyes and mouth. His hands are shaking, thrumming with energy and Beth grabs on to his jacket, zippers digging into her palms, to keep him in place. She smiles and moves up into him just as he dips his head lower to press their lips together. 

It’s soft and brief, his mouth barely puckered against hers before he’s pulling away, but Beth goes up higher on her toes, tugging him back to brush another light kiss across his mouth. He shuffles closer, his boots sliding against her slippers on the hardwood floor, and kisses her again, and again. Soft slow tastes of each other that leave her dizzy. She slips her hands under his jacket, fumbling to hold him tighter, and a whimper breaks in his throat when she grasps his waist through the thin material of his shirt. They both go still, the corners of their mouths pressed together.

His breath fans out heavy against her cheek where his hands still frame her face, his fingertips curling against her neck and into her hair and Beth’s entire body seems to rattle with the loud hard pound of her heart. She wraps her arms all the way around him to steady herself and tips her head back to look up at him but heavy footfalls sound on the stairs then and they pull apart quickly. Daryl slides into a chair at the head of the table just as Rick rounds the corner with a squirming Judith in his arms and Beth greets them with a chipper and breathless “good morning!” 

She takes Daryl’s mug to him and sets it on the table and even though he doesn’t look up Beth can see that the tips of his ears are pink. She bites back a smile, brushing her hand against his arm as she moves past him to take Judith from Rick. The little girl settles comfortably on her hip and rests her head on Beth’s shoulder, fist curling around her braid. 

Rick claps Daryl on the shoulder as he passes him to grab his own mug of coffee. “How’s it looking out there?”

 

~*~

 

After dinner Rick takes Judith upstairs for bed and Daryl and Michonne head out for the first watch shift while everyone else settles into the living room. When Rick hasn’t come back downstairs a half an hour later Beth goes up to check on him and finds him standing next to the crib, swaying back and forth with Judith snuggled against his chest. There’s a single candle burning on one of the end tables and the dim yellow light bounces over the walls.

“She wouldn’t let me put her down tonight,” he says in a soft near-sing-songy voice when he sees Beth. “I couldn’t say no.”

Beth leans her temple against the doorframe and watches as he runs a hand over the back of Judith’s head and ducks his head down to check that she’s sleeping. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and then slowly eases her down into the crib and covers her with a blanket. She shifts a little in her sleep, her lips smacking together and her arms starting to flail like she’s about to wake up again, but after a moment she settles. Rick blows out the candle and makes his way over to the door.

“We’ve never really had a chance to let her learn to soothe herself to sleep,” Beth whispers.

“Think there are entire parenting books written about how that’s a bad idea,” Rick says as he leans into the other side of the doorframe.

“I figure things’ll be hard enough already. Might as well let her have what she wants now.”

“We should write a new book. Parenting in the Apocalypse.”

Beth nods and hums in agreement, her eyes still on the outline of the crib. 

“You okay?”

“What?” She looks up at him in confusion. “Sure. Why?”

Rick tilts his head to the side as he watches her. “You were quiet at dinner. Seemed a little distracted.”

“Oh.” Beth feels her neck and face flush with warmth and she’s suddenly glad for the dark. “I was just… I um… I had… have a lot on my mind.” The sudden sense memory of Daryl’s hands spanning out over her jaw and up into her hair almost makes her shiver and even as she tries to bite back a smile she can feel it blooming out over her face. “I’m fine.” She waves her hand in front of her as if to brush away his concerns.

There’s a flicker of understanding in Rick’s eyes and his mouth turns up in a slow smile. “Hmm. Okay.”

Beth lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head and Rick only grins wider as he looks up at the ceiling and nods. He steps closer and reaches out to squeeze her shoulder and lean down to press a kiss to her temple. His stubble scratches against her skin as he lingers and Beth’s eyes flutter shut. She’s filled suddenly with the inexplicable urge to sit him down and tell him in detail about the warmth of Daryl’s mouth, the firmness of his grip, the way his eyes seemed an even more vibrant blue up close. But Rick pulls away, squeezing her shoulder again as he walks past her and back toward the stairs. 

She almost follows him but instead she presses her back to the wall and slides down to sit and hug her knees to her chest, closing her eyes and holding tight as if trying to keep everything good about this moment locked safe away inside.

 

~*~

 

It’s nearing the end of Daryl’s watch when Beth steps out onto the porch with a mug of freshly brewed tea in one hand and eases the door closed behind her. Daryl is sitting on the top step, his chin resting on the butt of the crossbow held between his legs and she can see him watching her out of the corner of his eyes as she sits down close to him.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He nods slowly. Beth takes a sip of the tea, closing her eyes and shivering at the warmth of it flowing down her chest. She looks out into the night, the distant treeline and rolling hills only darkened outlines against the starry sky.

“Warm enough?” Daryl mumbles, still not looking at her.

Beth nods but shifts closer so their arms are pressed together and holds the mug out to him. “It’s cinnamon.”

He shakes his head and she takes another sip before curling it close to her chest, the rising steam warming her chin. They haven’t had a chance to talk since the morning but Beth feels content to let the quiet stretch out around them as they both continue watching the horizon. It’s cold despite the thick layers of winter clothing, but she’s comfortable braced against him, the bite of winter air against her nose and cheeks somehow making her toes nestled into the softness of her moccasins feel even cozier.

“It’s probably almost Christmas,” Beth says after a long moment, whispering as if to respect the vow of silence nature has taken around them in the face of the cold night. 

“Don’t think Santa Claus is gonna be making a stop here this year.”

Her chest feels tight as she remembers the line of construction paper stockings taped to the wall in the common room of the prison and the gasps of excitement at breakfast one morning at the sight of presents wrapped in old newspaper and tied with ribbon, but Beth pushes it aside and smiles. “You know, I never got any presents from Santa Claus either.”

Daryl snorts and turns to look at her.

“I didn’t. My dad didn’t like the commercialization. Thought it was a silly story that took away from the real meaning of Christmas. We still did presents though. They were all homemade. Knitted scarves from my mom or wooden jewelry boxes Shawn carved. One year I wrote songs for everyone and played ‘em on the piano.” She laughs, “They were silly. Rhymin’ things like brother and druthers.”

Beth pauses when she feels his eyes on her, dark and a little pained. She offers him a soft smile and shrugs. “It’s okay. Really. There are a lot of things to be scared of. I don’t want the good memories I have to be one of them.”

“You always so certain?”

“No,” Beth says with a laugh. “But it’s been a good day.”

Daryl nods slowly, dropping his gaze back to his crossbow and as Beth watches him a small smile starts to twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

She looks down at the mug in her hands, her brow furrowed. “I know it’s wrong cause we’ve all lost so much, but sometimes I think about everythin' we have now and it hurts to think we couldn’t a had that before.”

“Girl.”

Beth side eyes him, cutting of any further expression of incredulity. “I’m serious. If the dead hadn’t started walkin’ around Maggie wouldn’t be with Glenn. We wouldn’t have Rick. Michonne. Carol. Judith wouldn’t…” she trails off.

“You’d have your dad. That house you wanted.”

“Maybe.” Beth reaches over to settle her hand over his on the crossbow, squeezing gently. “No guarantees it wouldn’t have gone pear shaped anyway.”

Daryl shakes his head as he turns his hand and curls his fingers up to hold on to her. “Nah.”

Beth tilts her head back and looks up at the sky, humming in thought. “Maybe we all would have found each other anyway. Maybe there’s all kinds of different parallel universes where we always find each other.”

“Like some soulmate shit?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Beth nudges him with her arm. “It’s not too far-fetched. Look how many times we’ve lost and found each other in this world. Imagine what we could do with cellphones and Google.”

He doesn’t answer but his thumb starts a slow sweep back and forth along her wrist. Beth presses closer and leans her head against this shoulder.

“It’s nice to think about. Maybe no matter what Beth and Daryl always end up on a porch together in the middle of the night,” she says softly.

Daryl nods. “They better.”

His voice is rough and Beth lifts her head just as he turns toward her. The shadow of night masks his features but she traces her eyes along the lines and dips and creases of his face, the familiarity of him all the illumination she needs. Daryl watches her, relaxed and soft and waiting, and Beth smiles, her eyes on his mouth as she sets down her mug, leans in and kisses him. 

He inhales a quick breath through his nose, holding still against her until Beth presses in with firmer pressure and tilts her head to change the angle. His lips part, following her movement, and she lets out a pleased hum and lifts the hand not tangled in his to curl into his hair behind his ear. A low groan rumbles in his chest when she tugs lightly to bring him closer and slide her tongue along his lower lip, the warm smoky taste of him filling her head up with a sparkling haze. 

When she pulls back a few moments later, Beth ducks her head and Daryl brushes his mouth against her forehead and temple, keeping her close. He whispers a soft “fuck” into her hair and she lets out a breathy laugh. Their fingers twine together tighter as Beth rests her head against his shoulder again and they stay there, watching the night silently, until Tyreese comes out to relieve him from watch.


End file.
